Winter
by TearStainedAngel24
Summary: She was the wind on a stormy night, she was the ice crystals that danced along the barren land, she was the cold twinkling of the stars when the temperature was far below freezing, but most of all, she was Russia. Fem!Russia centric, gory in parts.


**A/N: Yet ANOTHER prompt for Random4ever. This is vaguely historical, see if you can match the events. Fem!Russia centric. Gory.  
**

She had come from a land of snow and ice. The snowstorms would freeze her nearly to death everyday, yet she still carried on, fighting for life. She would run across the land like a fleeting shadow, bring terror to the hearts of the people. An innocent child hidden in a scarf, ignoring the pain that came from frost bitten fingers, would wander through forest by lunar light, never quite know where she belonged. The snow would glisten all around her, sometimes shinning in her eyes as her boots broke through the crisp white substance, filling the woods with the sound of ever constant footfalls. Sometimes the snow was stained crimson, but no one knew why. It was quite beautiful when it was scarlet, although there was always an odd smell to the air.

While the adults warned children to stay away, telling them terrible tales of how she killed those that came too close by tearing their heart out and eating it, the few that saw her could not stay away. They would stray towards her, tentatively, admiring everything about her. She was beautiful, with silky blonde hair that framed her face perfectly and deep blue eyes, almost lilac. Her lips were blue from cold, giving her an almost demonic look, and she donned a smile that hid her mental state perfectly. She would always be holding a metal object of some sorts. However, what the elders did not know is that she could never harm an innocent child, for she was not much more that one herself. She would merely watch them, and when they came too close for her comfort, turn and dash away, never even leaving footprints, and never to been seen by them again. A flickering glimpse of the wonder she was.

She fled through the land, feeling free as the bird-of-paradises she so longed to see. All she wanted was to feel warmth, go somewhere were the flowers would bloom all year round, their sweet fragrances filling the morning with a heavy scent that intoxicated those that strayed too close. The air where she lived was always crisp and clear, stinging her nose when she breathed in, causing painful burns on the back of the throat on bad days. Those days she would curl up in a house, her breath steaming up the window and blocking out light. The fire would crackle in the background, just a small warmth, keeping her warm like her passion for her country did.

And so this beautiful existence went on for a long time. She would wander the wasteland, not even feeling the cold; it had now seeped so far into her heart, soul, and blood that she was unaffected. The pain that a man had once inflicted on her when he had held her close would always be with her, a terrible ache that pierced her heart. He had viciously beaten her when she refused to do his dirty work. He was long gone, never to return, but the burning memories were still there. Sometimes, bones that had never quite healed properly would ache, just as a reminder of the tortured past. Despite this, she could be considered happy, if you didn't look too hard beneath the often fake smiles and mostly cheerless laughter.

But the peace could not last forever. It never lasted forever. She watched as the emaciated people rebelled, over throwing their current ruler. She had to stand there as they later brutally murdered he and his family like animals fighting over food. One nearly got away, but was captured, and she held the hand of the youngest daughter as the life slipped from her once bright and innocent eyes. It was terrible, but a brighter future was promised. They could be happy and all together.

There were two men bidding for power, but she knew instantly which one would win. He purposely found her, and held her hand, telling her how he would give her everything she wanted. How she would have friends, how the people would love her. He fed her promises of a happy future, full of prosperity. And she believed him, agreeing to give him her support

Like everything else he said, it was a disgusting lie. She had to watch him snap with lust for power, watch the people starve, freeze, and suffer. Were his intentions ever pure? She was powerful, yes, and surrounded by allies, but the anguish of the land was like a thousand knives piercing her skin. The people fell like slaughtered animals at his feet. Sometimes, he would specifically tell _her_ to go out and kill the 'enemies'.

There was something quite thrilling about shooting someone down from a distance, seeing at them crumple and screamed, blood coming from their pieced lungs as the agony raced through them. It reminded her of how she had felt under that cruel man's rule so long ago. Soon, she would become more hands on; pleasuring in the feeling of a man's screams as they writhed underneath her boot before she crushed their skulls, allowing the contents to spill out.

As the terror continued to sweep across the land, the pain increased. Some days, she would be bed-ridden, agony too much, yet she couldn't stop, she had to kill. The fragile mental state she had been holding on to for all these years finally snapped in two. Her favourite method was now to slash them open from stomach to neck with a sickle, the satisfy ripping sound that the flesh and skin made as it parted echoed around her head day in and day out. The metallic tang of the blood when she licked it of the stained blade, happy in her day's success, would never leave her mouth. She didn't want it to.

As this happened, the man she so cared for made a deal with his worst enemy, a liar by default that was not to be trusted. She had warned him, but he had not listened, his mental state not at its peak. The betrayal was inevitable, but when it happened it still left her people shocked and horrified. But it backfired, and soon the betrayer was cornered with guns pointing at his head from every direction. And so he took his own life, preferring to fall at his own hands that at the hands of his enemy. She emerged victorious, along with her 'allies', if you could call them that.

But now she was facing off for power over the world with a young man who should have been a push over. But the man that had got her this far had later died, though he fought with God until the very end. Morning and celebration came across the people, mixed emotions causing her to have violent headaches.

But this new opponent, he had practically murdered his own brother in a violent breakaway, and stepped on everyone to get to the power he was now. He had even betrayed his own ally by keeping the language of his brother, almost sad that he had to sever from him like that. It was patronizing and hypocrisy at it's finest. A land of freedom for all that slammed its doors shut and was as unequal as any other place.

The struggle was long and brutal, but eventually she fell. He walked away, smug victory writing on his face. The ice settled in again, as all those so-called friends vanished, never to talk to her again. She was back to freezing in the snow, powerless and weak. She was no child anymore, a threatening woman that most everyone feared. She had no friends when she had once been surrounded.

They tore away from her, sneering over their shoulders as they ran as fast as they could, desperate for escape. They laughed at her misery, loving the sound of her heartbreak, like a thousand glass balls dropping and shattering simultaneously. Every cutting comment stabbed those glass shards farther into the broken remnants of her heart, the pain never ending. Her smile was forced and pained, all fake sweetness as they threw things at her and laughed. Oh how their laughter echoed in her head, bouncing around and causing her to scratch at her eyes on a desperate attempt to free herself.

Her family all turned their back on her, closing their eyes to the agony. They walked out too, refusing to regret their actions. She spent weeks curled up and ragged, crying and broken to pieces. The scarf she had worn to keep warm now hid rope burns, and the gloves covered her wrists with expert precision.

She was stripped of everything, her title, her friends, her sanity. Perhaps she was not thinking straight, but when the ice in her heart decided to hold with those who favoured fire, she couldn't take it. The anger and hatred burned and scalded like pokers. Everything was broken, and she flung herself next to the flickering flames, sobbing her lilac eyes out.

The pain echoed behind those eyes, reflecting the cruelty that she had faced throughout her life. Mesmerized by the dancing flames, she fell asleep, dusk waning to twilight. The fire died, and a frost settled in. The destruction of ice is great, and her heart finally gave out, granting her wish to freeze to death. But just before she died, there was another flash of passion, of burning fire, and she let out a hollow, haunted howl, akin to that of a dying animal.

The next morning, her best and only friend fell to his knees, wailing to the crystal clear air. The crows in the nearby alder trees took flight, their black wings shimmering in the low winter light. The small animals in the rhododendron, sunflowers, and calendula, scattered at the sound, a horrific and sadness filled one that sent chills down the spines on anyone close enough to hear.

Love hurts. To see the one that you love frozen and dead hurts more. To never say goodbye or tell them your feelings can drive a man insane. Which is why the man's chocolate eyes glimmered angrily as he pulled her body close, desperate for some kind of warmth he knew would never be there again.

"You…you will pay." The words were hissed out, ready to declare war on the one who did this, the blonde haired, blue-eyed 'innocent' child that killed his love long before her time. The friends that had abandoned her, and the family that crumpled and wilted under her touch were next. His little sunflower did not deserve this pain, and he did not deserve to live without her. The best he could do was to try to bring her death to justice. His head was tilted back, eyes focused on the grey clouds that were hanging over-head. The furiously anguished glare piecing them and hit the stars they hid from view.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he continued to morn. In the echoing field, the wind seemed to whisper the words 'das vedanya' as the snow fell, a white blanket trying to cover the utter horror of what had occurred.

But that was nothing compared to what was yet to come.

**A/N: References to: Mongolian Empire, Russian Revolution of 1917, rise of Communism, Stalin's rise to power, WWII, Soviet-Nazi pact and the ensuing betrayal of said pact, Hitler's death, the Cold War, fall of the Soviet Union. In that order. I think. W/E.**


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